


Pretty Little Pet

by LittleJai



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Age Play, Decepticons Win, Explosions, Left for Dead, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Stockholm Syndrome, but not enough of it, kneecapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:32:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleJai/pseuds/LittleJai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blurr is left to die after a mishap on a mission... Waking up on a Decepticon warship is the last thing he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. SOS

**Author's Note:**

> This was also done for the Robogore meme. Keep in mind that I, as a person, do not support or approve of any of the things done in this fic. But I am willing to write them, because I'm fairly good at it. Done for my dear Hammy on Tumblr!

“SOS”

It had happened so unexpectedly, honestly. A quick, routine mission issued by Longarm. Just get the package to the drop, and get back safe, no risks at all. Except no one had mentioned the outskirts of the settlement being a 'depleted' minefield. He had taken the lead, darting ahead a ways as Chromia and the other two annoyances his boss had sent groused at him to slow down. He hadn't expected the blast, really. All that shot through Blurr's head as he felt the ground shift beneath his wheels was 'Oh, slagme.' The next moment he was airborne, pain lancing through his struts and torso. He vaguely heard the screams; it seemed his audials had been damaged by the mine. The trio of femmes were shrieking something incomprehensible. There was a sickening crunch as he hit the ground again and rolled, coming to a stop faceplates down and unmoving. The Elite tried as best he could to move an arm, a leg, anything, but nothing was responding. His systems had crashed. He could just make out a snippet of the conversation going on near him, somewhere...

“...him...I'll handle...go...No, I can...trust me.”

A shadow was falling across him, then a slim servo rested on his hip and rolled him to face the light. The femme standing above him was vaguely familiar. A newbie, just joined the Communications branch of the Elite Guard a few short lunar cycles ago. He couldn't quite recall her name. Fra... Fracture? Yes, that was it. She was smirking down at him now. In one smooth, all-too-practiced move, she had drawn a laser pistol. 

“Sorry, Agent. Can't have you following me back. Shockwave says you know too much.”

A horrible pain seared through his left knee joint as she fired, severing the delicate plating and overly sensitive wiring there. A garbled cry left his vocalizer unbidden. The right knee was next, followed by a kick for good measure. Blurr cried out again as first one knee, then the other was bent almost entirely backwards by the force of the traitorous femme's heavy boot. With a dry laugh, the pretty little 'Con turned her back on the writhing agent, leaving him on his back in a deserted minefield. 

“Good...Agent...later.”

Exhausted and in pain, leaking Energon in twelve different places, Blurr went limp as a processor crash finally swept through his body. 

\-----------------gay robots----------------gay robots--------------gay robots--------------gay robots-------------

“...up. Come on, sweet thing, up you get.”

Blurr's helm was still fuzzy, fritzing like a bad case of static hiccups, but he managed to lift it enough to attempt a look around. Before he could get much of a view, someone was holding something to his mouth and cradling his helm in a firm grip. His lips parted, and something cool and sweet hit his tongue, rolling down his throat and dulling the burn there. 

“Good mech. These'll help take some of the sting out, can't have you too roughed up for your new owner. One more, sweet thing, open up... There we go.”

Whoever was prattling at him held another jellied Energon piece to Blurr's mouth, which he gulped down quickly. The burn in his throat had switched to a rough tickle, and he coughed a few times. Something, not a servo, was patting his back to help ease the coughs. Finally managing to get a good look around, Blurr realized with a shudder where he was. The mech who had been encouraging him was all too familiar. Lockdown gave him a leer which might once have been a good-natured smile. The Autobot immediately surged upwards to attempt to run, but the moment he shifted his weight to one strut, he let out an agonized scream and collapsed back down on to the table. His knees were still bent backwards, dented and scratched beyond any hope of normal activity. He felt a trickle of Energon down one strut; a wound had reopened. Immediately Lockdown's servos were on him, easing him back into a reclined position in the chair, lifting the wounded leg to help stop the flow. 

“Hey now, sweet thing, can't be doing that. You won't be walking anywhere for a while. Your new owner requested I leave your legs like they are now, so you'll have to stay off 'em until they've healed like that.”

Blurr let out a terrified whimper. This was too much, even for the Elite Guard spy. A door to the side whooshed open, and a mechanical voice cut through the Velocitronian's reverie. 

“I do hope you have not been damaging my pet, bounty hunter.” 

“Nah. Poor thing just tried to get up out of the chair. Didn't realize how hurt he still is, I guess.” responded Lockdown coolly. 

The captive spy gave a soft huff of indignation. At first he had been scared, but now he was just irritated. These two mechs were talking about him in such condescending tones, like he was some sparkling incapable of understanding adult conversation. A single red optic turned towards him, and he recalled why he had been so scared. This was Shockwave, the bot who had ordered him terminated. The traitor to the Autobots. Blurr shrunk back against the back of the chair, infinitely aware of how helpless he was without his legs. As the hulking 'Con approached, Blurr found himself praying to Primus that it would be over quickly.

\-----------------gay robots----------------gay robots--------------gay robots--------------gay robots-------------

It really was humiliating, being carried around like a newspark. Shockwave's arms wrapped around him, supporting Blurr's head and cradling his aft as gently as possible. As they moved through the halls, a few mechs gave congratulations, or stopped to discuss the 'new pet' with little more than a fond glance for the bot in question. Despite the fear, Blurr was growing irritable again. Luckily for his temper, however, they soon arrived at a large door set in to one of the corridors. He was shifted gently to one arm (and how terrible, to be cradled as easily in one arm as in two) while Shockwave quickly input his code, and then they were inside. 

It was not at all what the little racer had expected. Rather than the cold, clinical mad-scientist lab his processor had supplied him with, the berthroom was extremely spacious and open. The berth itself was piled with blankets in various shades, stacked high with pillows, and it was here that Blurr was deposited while Shockwave moved to collect a few things from the rest of the room. There were private washracks in a side room, and even an enormous tub. A wide area of floor had been covered in soft mesh carpeting, and various posters and knicknacks adorned the walls. The curious Autobot's visual exploration was cut short, however, when his 'master' returned to the berth with a few unseen objects in his servos. With a squeal of protest, Blurr was flipped onto his stomach and settled lightly over Shockwave's lap.

“Come now, pet. I must be sure that the bounty hunter did not damage you in any way while you were in his possession. I have gone to great lengths to acquire you.”

With that, a servo was teasing his panel, large claws running along the seams. He jumped forward, then wriggled in agony as the motion brought spark-wrenching pain back to his knee joints. The clawed servo went to his back plating, rubbing in soothing little patterns for a moment. Once he had calmed slightly, the digits slipped back down to his panel, rubbing insistently. Blurr wriggled again, this time in discomfort.

“Stop-please-I-don't-want-this-leave-me-alone!”

The mech looming above him sighed.

“I know, my dear. But it must be done. After all, you belong to me now, and I must make sure you're in good condition.”

The claw snagged at a small catch in one of the seams, and with a horrifying click, the panel slid open. Blurr vented quickly, not daring to move lest he hurt his legs again, but terrified of what this Decepticon had planned. He realized quickly what was going on, as the small black cover of his valve was pried gently open. He let out a hoarse sob, throat burning once again. The agent knew what Shockwave would find: A pert, slim, tight valve with some of the most sensitive nodes this side of the Andromeda galaxy. A claw was beginning to circle one of those nodes now, but despite its insistence Blurr remained dry and shaking. The claw left, and he breathed a quick sigh of relief.

The Elite was not prepared for the return of the slim digit, nor the slick subtance that now coated it. Persistently the claw pushed forward, worming its way into Blurr's valve and slicking the inner walls as it went. The sharp tip brushed a cluster of nodes and the Velocitronian couldn't help a gasp, one that was quickly bitten back. Shockwave paused, moving to circle the cluster again, and Blurr let out a wordless whine. That spot was too sensitive. With a groan of shame, the racer felt a slow build of heat deep in his spark. The larger of the pair let out a quiet chuckle as he felt a trickle of warm fluid not added by his digit. He moved to circle another node, then another, pumping the claw in and out to get the lubricant flowing properly. 

Within a few breems Blurr was moaning hoarsely, and he was wet enough that Shockwave could slip in another claw beside the first. He continued for a few more klicks, until his pet was unwittingly thrusting back to meet him. With an inward smirk he removed his servo, prompting a whine. 

“Not to worry, my pet. I do believe you'll enjoy this a bit more.”

He had already prepared the toy with the artificial lubricant, and so it slipped into the slick valve with a loud, moist sound. Blurr wriggled violently and let out a much louder moan, clenching around the false spike and taking in the feeling of fullness. The toy was artfully crafted, a bit smaller than Shockwave's own spike, with bumps and ridges placed strategically. This was not its owner's favorite feature, however. That honor belonged to the thin tube running through the middle, connected to a small squeeze-bag laying by Shockwave's hip. 

It didn't take long for Blurr to adjust. Soon the dildo was being moved in and out at a rapid-fire pace, drawing squeals and pleading from its victim. Whether they were pleads for the treatment to cease, or pleads for more, neither could really tell. The spy knew he was close to the edge, doing his best to hold off, heating fans a whirring blur of noise and cool air. With one vicious twist, his 'master' destroyed that resolve, hitting the ceiling node with a sharp thrust. As Blurr wailed into overload, Shockwave reached down and gave the bag a sharp squeeze, filling his pet with a rush of false trans-fluid. 

As Blurr came panting down from his high, he felt the gentle swipe of a chamois cloth against his valve rim, and the gentle rumble of Shockwave's chest as he spoke.

“Good pet, very good. Your training should be quite easy, if you behave this well for me from here on in. We shall see how things go once you've recharged.”

The last thing Blurr was aware of was being laid back against the nest of pillows and blankets, and the feel of something padded closing around his neck.


	2. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurr is settling comfortably in to his new role, and makes a few new friends along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The follow-up chapter involving the OT3. If this gets a few good comments, I'll probably continue this piece... I have a few ideas for it.

“FRAGILE”

Three lunar cycles. That was precisely how long it had taken for the once-proud Blue Racer to break. Shockwave was impressed, truthfully. It took much longer for his pet than any of the other captive Autobots so far. Oh, yes, Blurr had put up a fight. He had dealt with screaming, kicking, refusal to feed, and everything in between. There had been begging and coercion involved, as well. The most difficult moments were those when his pretty toy had tried to use interfacing as a bargaining chip. Saying 'no' to such a pretty little thing had been difficult, but once he had realized that a good fragging would only happen on his master's terms, Blurr had been much more receptive. The key, as it turned out, had been touch.

Blurr loved touch, craved it like light or Energon. A quick pat to the helm or a good leg rub had his pet rolling over to please him, figuratively of course. Blurr still could not move properly from the thighs down. The wounds had healed over, leaving his leg struts mangled and bent, good for little more than dragging along behind him. The preferred method of travel by now was in Master's arms. Of course, the racer still protested every now and then... just as he was doing now.

“Please-master-not-in-front-of-those-two...” whimpered the bot, fidgeting with his plush collar nervously. Shockwave had quickly worked out that leaving a few dangling pieces, like the tag or a strand of beads, gave his pet something to play with and helped to keep him calm. Nonetheless, the head scientist continued to move forward, in to the meeting room where his newest associate waited with her two new acquisitions. One was gagged quite prettily, likely to keep him quiet. The purple mech recalled the other Prime being quite the irritating blabbermouth. The femme's other new toy, however, was simply collared, settled by her chair on one of the plush cushions reserved for pets. Shockwave was less familiar with this one. Some low-level maintenance bot, scooped up from Earth when Lord Megatron had made his return to glory. 

“Blackarachnia. How charming to see you again.” he intoned dully. The techo-organic dipped her helm.

“Shockwave. And your pretty little pet, too, what a pleasure. If you think he's well trained enough, you can set him down near my mechs...” offered the spider slyly. It was a challenge, he knew. If Blurr was not, in fact, well-behaved, he would likely try to free the two Primes. His punishment would be left up to the femme. But if Shockwave did not put him down, he would be acknowledging his failure to train the Autobot. Luckily, the elder scientist came prepared with an out. 

“Sadly, Blurr's legs are in no condition to be set on the floor. I do hope you don't mind my keeping hold of him while we conduct our business.” He cradled Blurr closer still to his chest and took his seat.

“Down-please?” came the quiet whine. 

“No, dear. You're too small to be down there with the big bots, I'm afraid.” rumbled Shockwave gently. He cast an optic over the tiny bundle in his arms. The size difference truly was perfect; he could hold his pet easily in one arm, rested against his chestplates. He had received more than a few comments on how fragile his toy looked. The general consensus aboard the ship had been that Blurr looked like a youngling, if even that. As most Decepticons towered well over any Autobot, the amused scientist had to agree. 

Blurr peered warily over the rise of the arm wrapped around him, taking in Optimus' calm and Sentinel's veiled rage. The former returned his gaze, giving a reassuring (if slightly worried) smile. The racer couldn't help but grin back, ducking back down in to the hollow of Master's arms. They hadn't lost hope yet. Blurr knew it wouldn't be long, though, and maybe then they'd see how kind their Mistress really was, letting them come out like this so soon. The pets spoke, sometimes, though he was usually not left among them. Master said he was too small and fragile. But when he could, he joined the circle of former Autobots as they discussed their new owners. Most were content. Rodimus had been taken by one of the higher members of the command, so he and Blurr got the opportunity to see one another fairly often. Roddi was happy now, though he hadn't been a few deacycles ago. The Primes would come around, too.

The Decepticons were talking something over, something about continued research grants and organic planets and spiders. The racer peeked over again, and again Optimus smiled at him. Blurr popped back down. By about the fifth or sixth time, he realized conversation had stopped and he was being watched. Shrinking back, he peered nervously up at his Master and licked his lips. 

“Having fun, pet?” asked Shockwave lightly. Blurr nodded, and looked back over. Blackarachnia was rubbing one of Optimus' helm crests fondly, murmuring soft praise. 

“My dear femme, would you be interested in an offer? I can watch your pets for you while you work, if you would be willing to do the same.” spoke the lead scientist thoughtfully. “In exchange, you would enjoy certain... favors, among the science department.”

Arachnia's fanged grin split wide. 

\-----------------gay robots----------------gay robots--------------gay robots--------------gay robots-------------

The arrangement worked well, overall. Blurr would be left with Blackarachnia while his Master was working, and she trained him at the same time as her two mechs. She seemed to prefer using punishment to praise, but nonetheless she used him as an example of a properly trained pet. The racer wouldn't complain. He got fed Energon treats and patted when he did something good, and the few times he had misbehaved he had only been chastised. None had been his fault, of course, only the fault of his broken leg struts. 

Sometimes Sentinel and Optimus would join Shockwave and his pet in their quarters. The elder mech was a stern teacher, but he quickly worked out what was the best method for each of them. Optimus soaked in praise like a sponge, eager to please in every way. Sentinel was harder to handle, but a good dose of humiliation would leave him open and vulnerable, willing to obey. The two owners were learning quite a bit from one another.

Of course, staying with Mistress Blackarachnia did have its drawbacks. Her techno-organic form left her unable to have younglings of her own, so she tended to take it out on the smaller, helpless form of Blurr. He was used to being fed by Master, but once he had been trained enough Master would let him hold the cube on his own. Mistress preferred to cradle him and feed him herself. The cooing and fussing he could handle, as well. But being called 'bitlet' and 'little one' he found overly humiliating. It hardly seemed like it could get much worse.

Then, of course, she got her mechs trained well enough to go to the once-a-decacycle meetups for the pets. And still insistently treated Blurr like a sparkling. Soon enough he had most of the femmes on the base cooing at him as Master carried him past, or playing with his pedes absent-mindedly as he sat across someone's lap in the circle. Master groused at them, sometimes. He agreed that Blurr was fragile and tiny, but he had never approved of others willingly teasing his pet. 

Despite neither of them enjoying it much, there were rare occasions when it wasn't so bad. Sometimes, laying on his back in their berth, Shockwave would treat him just like some of the femmes in the circle. He cooed gentle praise at his pet, and Blurr wriggled happily under the attentive gaze, letting Master stroke his belly or rub his sore calves. He was used to being fragile. It just meant that even the Decepticons wanted to adore him, given the chance.


End file.
